


30 Day Music Challenge

by TitansRule



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 day challenge, Drabbles, Gen, Music, daughter - Freeform, lemolo, oneshots, smoke, we felt the fall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:52:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2091396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitansRule/pseuds/TitansRule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm fairly sure this was meant to be original fiction, but I'm working with fanfiction for now.</p><p>Day 1: Lemolo - We Felt the Fall (MCU - Betty Ross, mid-Battle of Manhattan)<br/>Day 2: Daughter - Smoke (MCU - Peggy Carter, post WW2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lemolo - We Felt The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty watches the Battle of Manhattan and misses Bruce. I've never watched The Incredible Hulk, so my Betty is basically what I've picked up from fanfiction.

The nails on her left hand were so short that they were beginning to bleed, but she didn’t stop chewing. Her right leg trembled so violently that the entire couch shook with it, but she didn’t force it to still. Her heart clenched every time she caught a flash of green on the television screen, but she didn’t get up to turn it off.

She couldn’t turn it off.

It had been so long since she had seen him, and any sight was worth to ache deep within her.

The house was empty, as it had been for months, since she had broken her engagement, unable and unwilling to marry when most of her heart still belonged to a man halfway across the world.

She understood why he had left, however much she hated his reasoning – and her father for driving him to it.

She had always had more faith in him than he had in himself. She had always believed that he wasn’t stuck, chained to a monster.

The Other Guy wasn’t a monster.

Less intelligent, certainly.

An unfortunate fondness for smashing things, of course.

But a monster?

Only when he was being shot at – and anyone would become a monster under those circumstances.

She would defend him to the ends of the earth, and now it seemed that there were other people who saw him properly.

Her phone began ringing, an incessant, shrill noise that made her jump, even over the sound of explosions coming from the television.

She wanted to ignore it, but her father’s number blinked up at her, and she answered it reluctantly.

_“Elizabeth, don’t turn …”_

“I’m already watching it.” She said calmly. “I’m an adult. I don’t need to watch scary things anymore.”

 _“Stay where you are.”_ Her father ordered. _“I’m going to sort this out.”_

“Yes father.” She said, hearing him hang up without another word.

Her father would never imagine that she would disobey an order, but she wasn’t one of his subordinates, she was his _daughter_ , and she was done listening to him.

Her left hand crept back to her mouth and she let it fall. Her right leg continued to tremble and she stood, feeling it still after a few steps. Another flash of green shot across the television and she bent down to turn it off.

She would not wait any longer to see him, and a few seconds on a television screen wasn’t good enough.


	2. Day 2: Daughter - Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is celebrating the end of the war, but Peggy isn't really in the mood.

The darkness was suffocating, pressing down around her like heavy fog, thick enough to creep into her throat and down to her lungs, pressing down until she gasped for breath around the sobs that tore their way through her lips against her desperate struggles to restrain them.

Chatter and laughter floated under the door, accompanied by the lingering smell of stale cigarette smoke, as the rest of the soldiers celebrated the end of hell, the news that Adolf Hitler had taken his own life, and she should be out there with them, but she could no longer avoid the fact that he was gone.

No one had even noticed her absence, and hopefully they wouldn’t for hours, not until she had regained her composure and mopped up any evidence of her lapse in poise.

But fortune did not shine upon her today, and the door to the small stock room opened just a sliver, enough for a beam of light to creep across the floor and illuminate her tear-stained face, but there was no remark, no joke, no sexist comment about her predicament.

Instead, the Howling Commandos filed in with Howard Stark, their faces a sombre contrast to the merriment and revelry outside.

She let her head fall back against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught of tears that continued to press their advantage, but she was no longer as concerned.

If anyone understood her, it was these men.

Howard slid down the wall to sit beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his side, and she twisted slightly to bury her face in his neck, feeling him press a brotherly kiss against her forehead.

A glass was pressed into her hand, and she snorted into cloth, her tears lightening with the brief moment of levity. It wasn’t surprising that one of the boys had brought a bottle.

She shifted so she could see Steve’s men, who had taken up various positions around the room, blocking her from view of the door.

None of them said anything, but she gave them a watery smile all the same.

Tomorrow, she would walk into work as though nothing had happened, locking up her grief in a box hidden deep within her heart.

But tonight, she could let it out, secure in the knowledge that the Commandos would stand watch while she shed the tears that they never could.


End file.
